


Dancing Deep Into The Night

by CapedCommissioner (smittenbritain)



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sneaking Around
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:15:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29030046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smittenbritain/pseuds/CapedCommissioner
Summary: Jim wasn't sure what he'd done to earn Bruce Wayne's eye, but he certainly wasn't going to complain about it, not when it had really turned his evening around.
Relationships: Jim Gordon/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 5
Kudos: 26





	Dancing Deep Into The Night

**Author's Note:**

> *Confetti* I'm naming another fic after NSP lyrics, surprising nobody! This one is from 'Mansion Party'. It has _the vibes_.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @capedcommissioner!
> 
> Batcest/incest shippers do not interact.

Jim’s shoulders thudded against the wall, and Wayne crowded up against him, kissing him like they’d never parted. Distantly, over the pounding of blood in his ears, Jim could hear the sounds of the fundraiser continue like their host hadn’t vanished at all; they were far enough away that nobody would stumble across them - Bruce had assured him so as he’d led him through too many doors - but the fact that they could still  _ hear _ everything send a heady tingle down Jim’s spine.

“We’re gonna get caught,” Jim murmured, even as he grasped at Wayne’s hips.

Wayne laughed quietly,  _ dangerously. _ “No we’re not. I locked the door.”

He ducked his head to trail a path of kisses along Jim’s scruffy jaw, down his neck, to the collar of his shirt. There, Wayne huffed, clearly frustrated to have been foiled by clothing of all things, but pause he did, mouthing at the warm skin he was allowed rather than pushing for more just yet. Jim shivered under the warm puffs of his breath, his eyes drifting shut as he tipped his head back against the wall. 

“Jesus, Wayne,” he chuckled breathlessly. 

“Please,” he said, drawing back just to shoot Jim a stunning - yet somehow still cheeky - smile. “Call me Bruce. I think we’re a little past formalities.”

Jim laughed, full and warm. He  _ did _ have a point there. “Bruce it is, then,” he said, and he relished the little thrill that buzzed in his chest at the taste of Bruce’s name. It felt forbidden, exciting just because he was allowed to call him by his first name. It shouldn’t have got Jim going so easily, but there he was, far too hard in his slacks at a little bit of making out in Bruce Wayne’s stupid, fancy house at his stupid, fancy party.

He wasn’t entirely sure what he’d done to earn Bruce’s eye, but he wasn’t going to call him out on his taste right now, not when it had really turned his evening around. 

Bruce beamed at him, his eyes sparkling. “I’m assuming I don’t have to call you ‘Commissioner’ here?”

“Not unless you want to,” Jim shot back, only to pause as he realised just what had come out of his mouth. Christ, that wasn’t a thought that had  _ ever _ crossed his mind, but apparently Bruce had thoroughly fried his circuits.

A slow, wicked smile made its way across Bruce’s face, curling at the corners. Jim swallowed hard. “Maybe another time,” Bruce chuckled, trailing his fingers up Jim’s hip to press against his side through the thin cotton of his shirt. “If you’d be  _ open _ to another time, that is."

“Gotta say, you haven’t shown me much to bring me back yet.” Jim raised his eyebrows, only to dissolve into a quiet laugh when Bruce rolled his eyes. “I’ve heard a lot about your reputation, but no evidence to support it so far.”

“Well, allow me to rectify the situation,  _ Commissioner,” _ Bruce teased, and then he pressed himself against Jim from mouth to hip, and proceeded to kiss him hard enough to make his toes curl in his nice dress shoes. 

Bruce’s kisses were intoxicating; they left Jim’s head swimming even though he hadn’t had a drop of alcohol all night. He somehow managed to make the act methodical, almost analytical, which was something that Jim hadn’t expected from Bruce Wayne of all people, but it worked out to his benefit in the end. Within just a few short minutes - or years, perhaps, because Jim had  _ definitely _ lost all sense of time since they’d left the party behind - Bruce seemed to know exactly what made Jim weak in the knees, and he used it to his advantage with extreme prejudice. He nipped at Jim’s bottom lip, chased it with a quick flick of his tongue as he raked his nails gently across his side, and he just  _ smiled _ at the way Jim shivered.

“Okay,” Jim panted, clutching at Bruce’s shoulders for dear life, “you made your point.”

“Mm, I’m not done making it.” He squeezed Jim’s hips - and, God, the way it made him tingle all over was  _ illegal _ \- and then paused, his thumbs sweeping back and forth idly. “If you’d like to continue, that is. We can keep to this if you’d prefer. I don’t want to assume-”

“Bruce.” Jim reached up, just to fit his palm against Bruce’s cheek and stop him in his tracks. He was clean shaven, his jaw far smoother than Jim’s; clearly, he’d shaved before the fundraiser to keep up his neat appearance, unlike Jim, who had just thrown on the only suit he owned. Bruce looked like a million bucks in his fancy jacket - hell, it was probably worth more than Jim’s car - and Jim knew he didn’t even compare.

Now that he thought about it, there were so many little differences between them, things that set them apart, and it hit Jim directly in the gut. Jesus, what the hell was he doing having a one night stand - one with the potential for  _ other  _ nights, it sounded like - with a billionaire?

And yet.

“I’d love to continue,” he promised, thumbing across his cheek. Then, shifting on his feet and flushing a little, he added, “I’m, uh,  _ very _ interested in continuing, actually. Just in case you weren’t aware.” He didn’t know  _ how _ Bruce couldn’t be aware when they were pressed flush together, but maybe there was a chance he’d escaped unnoticed.

Bruce’s smile said otherwise. “Oh, I’m aware,” he chuckled, low and smooth like thick, melting chocolate. He nosed at Jim’s jaw, down his neck, back to the collar of his shirt that had stopped him before. With Jim’s nod, he popped the first button of it open, just so he could mouth at just a little bit more skin. “I’m  _ very _ aware,” he murmured, and then,  _ Jesus, _ there was a thigh pressing between his legs, right up against Jim’s dick.

Automatically, his hand flew up to cover his own mouth. He huffed out a breath through his nose as Bruce pressed again, slow and grinding to the point that it almost felt  _ sweet. _ It felt  _ far _ too good after only having his right hand for the past however many years.

“No need to keep yourself quiet,” Bruce hummed. The words buzzed against Jim’s skin, right down to the muscle to make him shudder. “We’re safe back here.”

Jim let his hand drop. Self-consciousness prickled at the back of his neck, but he tried to ignore it. “You’re gonna kill me,” he grunted.

“And miss out on the chance to have  _ this _ again?” Bruce laughed quietly. “No, I’d definitely prefer to keep you around.”

He kissed his way back up to Jim’s mouth, dragging his lips against his stubble along the way. Jim sunk into the kiss like he was drowning and Bruce was the only thing keeping him afloat, trusting the wall behind him to take his weight as he leaned back against it. Truth be told, he wasn’t entirely sure that he could stay on his feet for much longer anyway, and that thought only solidified when Bruce trailed a hand around to his front to rest his fingers over Jim’s belt buckle in a curious little question.

“Can I?” he asked. His voice was little more than a pleasant rumble in Jim’s ear, and it sent heat skittering across his skin. He was sweating under his thin shirt, and Christ, he didn’t think he’d ever been harder in his life.

“God, please,” Jim panted, shifting into Bruce’s touch. It was so, so tantalisingly close, so dangerously close to where they both wanted him to be, and Jim felt like he was about one second away from begging. He wasn’t above it with the right person.

Bruce sucked in a quiet little breath, short and sharp, and then he dropped both hands to Jim’s belt. The clink of metal on metal was loud and damning in the silence of the corridor; his slacks drooped as Bruce unbuttoned and unzipped him, the belt weighing down the fabric either side, but the thought of his pants dropping to his ankles was the last thing on his mind right now. 

There was no reason for the brush of Bruce’s fingers to feel as good as it did. He twisted his wrist to press his palm against Jim’s abdomen with ease, and for the moment, he kept the barrier of his underwear between them as he palmed his dick. His fingers curved around the shape of him, appreciative and exploratory even with cotton in the way; Jim exhaled a long, slow breath as he tapped at the head, traced his way down the underside of his shaft. There was already an embarrassingly damp patch right there at the tip, and it made the back of his neck prickle with heat as Bruce pressed on it for just a moment longer, as if cataloguing just how worked up Jim was.

Jim knocked his head back against the wall with a grunt.  _ “Fuck, _ Bruce.”

“Mm, that is the idea.” He curled his hand around him, ignoring the way it tugged at Jim’s underwear as he gave him a few lazy strokes. “Actually, I- Can I blow you?”

Jim’s eyes snapped open. “Huh?”

Bruce met his gaze evenly,  _ seriously _ \- although, there was an amused little smile at the corner of his mouth, but there was no hint of a joke there, nothing to indicate that the offer wasn’t genuine. “I’d like to blow you,” he said, “if that’s on the table. I have a condom.”

And, well. Jim was only human, and if Bruce Wayne was offering him a blowjob, then there was really only one reasonable answer to that.

“Oh, fuck,” he whined, curling his fingers into the firm muscle of Bruce’s biceps. “Fuck, yeah, that’s absolutely on the table.”

“In that case…” Bruce pecked the corner of his mouth once more, and then, gracefully, sunk to his knees. Jim’s fingers trailed from his arms to his shoulders, up to the back of his head; he brushed through the short, dark hair at Bruce’s nape, half tempted to leave his hair messy and skewed before they even started. He had no idea how Bruce managed to look so put together, so effortlessly unruffled, when Jim felt like his entire world was tilting on its axis.

Bruce leaned into his palm, a lazy smile on his lips. “You can pull if you want, Jim.”

Every sentence, every offer felt like a kick to the fucking chest. Jim exhaled in a rush, but rather than take Bruce up on that, he simply curved his hand to the back of his head, holding rather than urging. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

Laughing quietly, Bruce tugged Jim’s slacks down a little more, just enough for them to hang at his hips. Then, with a quick glance up to get his nod, he pulled his underwear down, too. Jim tried not to shiver - the corridor was cold enough to make a tingle zip across his skin, or maybe it was just the warm press of Bruce’s fingers as he tucked the waistband behind his balls to keep it out of the way. He rocked back onto his heels and reached into his pocket, and Jim took the opportunity to catch his breath as Bruce opened the condom, tossed the pocket down by his knee, and efficiently rolled it onto Jim’s length. It was almost clinical, which Jim was thankful for in just that one moment, only because it let him  _ try _ to clear his head.

And then Bruce’s hand came back, circling around the base and thumbing over the thick vein along the underside. Jim’s breath stuttered in his lungs.

“Feel free to move,” Bruce said, glancing up at him as he idly stroked Jim from base to tip. It was a slow motion, one that felt like it pulled every ounce of pleasure out of every corner of Jim’s body, all before he was even that close to coming. “I’ll stop you if it’s too much.”

Jim swallowed hard. “You sure?”

Bruce grinned, sharp and tempting. “Very,” he promised.

His eyes drifted closed then as he tilted his head, turned to drag the flat of his tongue up the side of Jim’s dick. Even through the condom, the touch was startlingly hot, and Jim sucked in a ragged breath at the meandering way Bruce made his way up to the tip. Once he was there, he simply shifted to do the same on the other side, humming pleasantly as he went. Jim’s fingers flexed in his hair. 

“Bruce,” he murmured, though even to his own ears it came out sounding more like a plea.

All he got in return was a smile. Bruce pressed it into the head of his dick with a kiss - Jim whimpered, fisted his hand against the wall until his knuckles were white - and then he finally,  _ finally _ parted his lips to take the first inch or so onto his tongue. He bobbed easily, almost lazily, and he stroked what wasn’t in his mouth with the sort of confidence that came with knowing his limits well. 

The most miraculous part was how  _ neat _ he kept it - which, in hindsight, wasn’t much of a surprise, not when they were in the middle of a fundraiser and people could come looking at any moment, but Christ. Once he got going, Bruce Wayne sucked cock like it was the most important job in the world and he was determined to do his best work; his movements were seamless, his hand working in tandem with the up and down of his mouth as he found the rhythm he wanted. As he rose up, he sent a quick glance Jim’s way, as if to check that he was enjoying himself, and all Jim could do was stare at the way the piercing blue of his irises was reduced to mere rings around the wide black of his pupils.

His tongue  _ curled _ against the head on his way down again, and Jim’s breath shuddered in his chest, rattled around in his lungs with a groan. Bruce kept it slow, teasing - he was probably deliberately trying to work Jim up further, push him to the point of pleading, which, well, wouldn’t that be a ride to be strung out by Bruce Wayne? Jim thought about his flirty words again, the playful promise of another time after this, and he bowed his head forwards with a gasp. 

Shit. If he thought about that too much, there was no way he was going to hold out for very long. That wasn’t exactly  _ impressive. _

Bruce twisted his wrist with a quick flick of his tongue against the head, and Jim’s mind cleared again as easily as if he’d swept paperwork from a desk. He slumped back against the wall, bent his knees a little when they threatened to give where they were locked too tight to hold him up, and Bruce made a pleased little noise around his dick as he shuffled a little further between his legs. Jim felt the sound buzz through him right down to his bones, down to the very fibre of his being, and he dug the nails of his free hand into his palm hard to try and ground himself.

“Careful,” Jim huffed, thumbing Bruce’s hair back from his face. He could feel the thick layer of gel in it, but it was beginning to fall out of place now. It was more than a little bit thrilling to realise that  _ he _ was the one leaving Bruce Wayne in a mess.

Bruce merely arched an eyebrow. Somehow, he managed to look idly amused with a dick in his mouth. 

Jim opened his mouth to reply - not that he knew what he was going to say, because, Christ, what  _ did _ he say to the man giving him the best blowjob he’d had in fucking  _ years? _ \- but he cut himself off with a choked out groan when Bruce bobbed lower again, lower than he’d pressed so far. He shifted his grip, moved his hand out of the way so he could take more of Jim into his mouth; he felt the back of Bruce’s throat twitch with the effort of not gagging.

_ “Shit,” _ Jim hissed, his eyes snapping shut again. His hips twitched in an aborted little movement as Bruce rose up an inch, and he was about to apologise when Bruce  _ moaned, _ and then- 

And then he stilled.

Jim forced his eyes open just so he could look down. Bruce looked up at him through his eyelashes, his cheeks a delicate pink as he gently squeezed the base of Jim’s dick. He felt more than heard the stutter in Bruce’s breath as their eyes met, and heat pooled sticky and sweet in Jim’s stomach. God, what he wouldn’t give to return the favour; he imagined that Bruce made some interesting noises when the positions were reversed, when he didn’t have to stay so neatly wrapped up all of the time.

For now, though, he was treated to the way Bruce’s hand wandered, drifting from his dick to his hip. He tucked his fingers in under his waistband to get to the bare skin underneath, smoothing his fingertips over it to hold on. There, he tugged, silently encouraging, and Jim’s heart damn near stopped.

“You want me to-” He closed his mouth with a sharp inhale when Bruce  _ hummed _ again. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Bruce’s breath stuttered again, but this time it was laughter. Despite how worked up he was, Jim felt himself smiling without even thinking about it. It turned into a breathy chuckle when Bruce winked, but there was still the matter of Bruce making him laugh during a  _ blowjob _ to work through later. Maybe it had just been too long since Jim had last had sex, or maybe there was something more to this silly little moment.

He didn’t keep Bruce waiting, though. He felt the way Bruce’s jaw went slack at the first tentative roll of his hips, and he was hard pressed not to just ramble a string of curses at the easy slide of his dick against the soft bed of Bruce’s tongue.

There was so much in this one gesture, so much that made Jim’s blood run hotter in his veins. Bruce’s eyes drifted shut again as he just  _ relaxed, _ melted into the touch with all of the trust that Jim found usually came with a much deeper relationship, and didn’t that make his heart twist oddly? Reverently, he curved his hand against the back of Bruce’s head to gently pull him into the next rock, but he was careful not to press past Bruce’s established limits. 

One thing was for sure, though: Jim might be the one moving, but he knew for a fact that he wasn’t the one in control here. 

That was just fine by him. It was hot, actually, and it was sure to haunt Jim for weeks to come when he was back at home by himself with only his hand for company. There was plenty there to fuel himself with, plenty he could work with for any further fantasies - or, maybe, if he was lucky, he could see more of that on another night, when Bruce could press him down into a bed and really show him what he liked.

There was the soft clink of metal from below. Jim blinked dazedly, confused, until he finally made sense of what he was seeing: Bruce with his hand around his own dick, stroking in time with the slow press of Jim’s hips. He looked a little less put together now, Jim realised with a thrill; his lips were red and wet, and his arm jerked with the self-control it took to not speed up his wrist. A couple buttons were undone on his shirt, granting Jim the barest glimpse of his chest. What he saw looked  _ good. _

When Bruce caught him staring, he just made a thin, whining noise and squeezed Jim’s hip again, more desperately this time.

“Oh, my God,” Jim gasped, twitching forwards a little faster than he meant to. Bruce just rolled with the movement as easy as anything, his eyelids fluttering on another moan, and that was about when Jim’s resolve snapped. Bruce was right here, looking like every wet dream Jim didn’t even know he’d had, and he was abruptly two seconds from coming his brains out.

“Not gonna last,” he groaned, thumbing through the short hair at the back of Bruce’s head. The slick sound of Bruce’s fist sped up, hopelessly out of time with Jim’s movements now, and Jim swallowed back the desperate noise that wanted to bubble up in his throat. Instead, he closed his eyes - the image of Bruce was burned onto the back of his eyelids anyway - and tipped his head back against the wall, content to let his rhythm stumble and fail as he felt the first hot licks of orgasm in the base of his spine.

When he came, it was an overwhelming blaze of heat, one that tore through him from the tips of his fingers to the soles of his feet. Bruce laid a casual forearm across his hips to keep him pinned against the wall as he worked him through it, and that sent hot embers sparking along the path behind that first wave. His knees shook as his legs went weak in the lingering tingles, particularly when Bruce pulled off to trace his tongue delicately along the sides of his dick, almost like he was lazily cleaning him up. Jim shuddered as he pictured what the result might have been had they not used a condom.

“Jesus,” he breathed, sagging back against the wall as Bruce released him. He tried to catch his breath, but his toes still curled with the warmth of his orgasm, and he couldn’t think past the satisfied fog in his brain.

That was, until he heard Bruce’s ragged panting. His forehead was pressed to Jim’s hip, and his right arm worked in a telling way as he touched himself, fast and impatient now. Before Jim could even offer to help, Bruce made a quiet noise against the fabric of Jim’s pants, and his shoulders shuddered and hunched inwards as he came.

Holy shit. 

Bruce sighed then, heavy and pleased. He stayed there for a moment, unmoving beyond the slow rise and fall of his arms with his breaths, and then he slowly pulled a packet of tissues from his pocket. Once his hands were clean, he finally looked up at Jim again, a playful little smile on his face as he neatly removed and tied off the condom for him.

“So,” Bruce said - or, well, rasped. Jim felt a blush prickle his cheeks. “Was that enough evidence for you, Commissioner?”

A startled laugh bubbled out of Jim. It was surprising enough that he didn’t even notice that Bruce had tucked him away and fixed his belt for him until he stood up, the crumpled condom packet in his hand. The edge of a tissue peeked out over the foil, stuffed inside to keep it relatively hidden. To his delight, Bruce was smiling - and it was a  _ real _ smile, one that reached his eyes. 

It was  _ attractive. _

And, well, why not flirt a little bit? It had already brought him this far.

“It’s enough to start with,” Jim replied, tucking his hands casually into his jacket pockets and cocking an eyebrow. “I might need to see some more before I draw any conclusions.” 

There was an amused little sparkle in Bruce’s eyes. “Is that so?”

“Mm.” Jim cleared his throat, thumbed the hard plastic edge of his phone in his pocket. “Why don’t I give you my number, Mr. Wayne, and if you find anything else, you give me a call?”

Bruce’s laugh was a quiet thing, soft and rumbling in his chest with genuine amusement. “I think that’s a wonderful idea,” he said, and he pulled his phone out of his breast pocket to offer it to Jim. His fingers lingered on Jim’s when he took it to plug his number in, and he was certain that he didn’t imagine the little spark that raced across his skin at the touch. 

God, he was so fucked already.

“I look forward to hearing from you,” Jim said, forced casual when he handed Bruce his phone back. 

“I’ll make sure not to keep you waiting,” Bruce said, a smile curling at the corners of his mouth. Like this, with the cover in place, it was almost easy to pretend that they hadn’t been grabbing at each other mere minutes ago; if it hadn’t been for the flyaway strands of Bruce’s hair and the trash in his enclosed fist, Jim might have wondered if he’d dreamed the whole thing.

Bruce glanced down the hallway, a regretful tilt to his lips now. “I should get going. I need to, uh…  _ clean up _ before I return to the party.”

“I’m probably going to duck out now anyway,” Jim admitted sheepishly. He’d been at his limits with the fundraiser anyway when Bruce had joined him, and now that he felt like his entire worldview had changed, he didn’t particularly fancy going back out into the crowd and playing nice. He wanted to bottle up this moment and keep it, tuck himself away from the city for a short time while he resolved the version of him before tonight and the one that he now inhabited. 

And, maybe, just maybe, he’d text Bruce.

“That’s a shame,” Bruce said, and he sounded like he meant it. “But it was a pleasure to have you here, Jim.” His mouth twitched with silent laughter. “Pun unintended.”

Jim laughed. The sound was so much freer than it had been at the start of the night, when he’d stuck with polite smiles and handshaking. He felt like Bruce had unlocked something in him, wiped away the stress and replaced it with just the  _ chance _ to move a little easier. It was like he’d been able to put down the weight on his shoulders for just one night, and now that he picked it up again, it felt lighter than it had before.

They parted ways with one last private smile just outside the lobby. Bruce vanished down the corridor again to find a bathroom, and Jim slipped back out into the crowd and then out through the open double doors. The cold of the night hit him like a wall, forcing a shiver through him as it chased away the last of his borrowed warmth. He hunched into his jacket and fumbled for his car keys; the sooner he got in his car and got the heating going, the better.

As he sat in the driver’s seat, his phone buzzed with a text. It was from an unknown number, and there were just a few short words to go with it.

_ Until next time, Commissioner. _

**Author's Note:**

> Reminder: Batcest/incest shippers please do not interact!


End file.
